View From The Edge
by Robyn the Perpetually 15
Summary: Yuan struggles with a decision he thought he'd already made.


View From The Edge

by Robyn

A/N: My first ficcie after years of silence! Now this is kinda weird, since it was technically written for a class, and I think Yuan's over-angstified, but whatever. Oh, and another warning, this was written very randomly with virtually no planning. I just hope it fulfills the requirements for the assignment... oh, well. It's so short, and yet it took me two hours to write... gah... uh, on to the story.

Yuan had stopped pacing by the time I entered the room, but the restless energy was still present. He was drumming his fingers impatiently against his desk, and his foot was tapping to a silent beat inside his head. A dark scowl lingered on his face.

"Lord Yuan," I interjected cautiously, "a new report from our agent. The drug has taken affect, and Lloyd's group is asleep."

The dark cloud that seemed to hover over his mood lifted slightly. "Good," he muttered, not getting up yet. "I've been putting this off for far too long."

He shuffled around some papers, reorganizing files I'm sure had been organized countless times before. When he made no move to get up, I took in the tortured expression on his face and said quietly, "Having second thoughts, sir?"

Yuan shot me a look that made me wish I hadn't spoken up. "This is it, Lagan," he told me sharply. "Everything is finally in place. My plan to defeat Yggdrasill will be brought to fruition, and Lloyd will know his real father."

"And if your plan works, he may be without a father once again," I put in unwisely.

Yuan surged out of his seat, slamming his hand down on his desk with a loud crack. As I stood there stock still with fear, he stood quivering with what I took to be fury; I couldn't see his face. Suddenly he sagged, as if the strings holding him up had just been cut. "I don't want Kratos to die either," he said finally. "He could be a useful ally, if he weren't so stubborn. He puts far too much faith in Lloyd - he wasn't there to raise him, so he cannot be sure of his abilities. His search for a way for Lloyd to wield the Eternal Sword is in vain. His son is his weak spot, and we will use that against him."

"You would use Lloyd to kill Kratos," I murmured softly, in a mixture of awe and horror.

Yuan drew in a pained hiss of breath. He had been dwelling on this for a while, I could tell. "It's not that simple," he said, too drained to argue. "Yggdrasill needs to be overthrown, that much is clear. To do that, I need the Eternal Sword; for that I need a pact with Origin; and to make that pact Kratos needs to release his mana, which will kill him. It's the only way."

He slumped back into his chair and massaged his temples wearily. I could tell he was thinking about the old days when he had traveled with Kratos; he had that look on his face. From what I could tell, the two had never been close in the traditional sense, but their fierce rivalry bonded them in a way that went beyond a mere friendship - that much I could tell from the way Yuan always acted whenever Kratos was brought into the picture.

Something in the way he looked at me now gave me the impression that he wanted me to give him another way; a way to overthrow Yggdrasill without sacrificing Kratos. But there was no way. The Eternal Sword was the source of his power; it was the only thing that could be used against him. In putting Kratos's life above that salvation of the world, he would only be doing the same thing Yggdrasill was doing.

In a misguided attempt to cheer him up, I offered, "He's lived for four thousand years already. He himself seems ready to die; after all, he _is_ looking for a way for Lloyd-"

_"Lloyd."_ Yuan slammed his hand on his desk. "That little brat - what does Kratos see in him? In his search for a way for Lloyd to wield the Eternal Sword, he has blocked my attempts - and I don't need some nonexistent ore to use it." He turned to me, a wild look on his face. "He trusts his son, who he's only known for a few months, more than he trusts me, who he's known for four thousand years! How am I supposed to respond to that, Botta?! He-"

He stopped in mid-sentence, realizing his mistake. Botta's death had been a hard blow to Yuan; he had been his only constant companion for the past five hundred years. I suppose he was the only one he ever dared truly confide in, and in these tense days, he needed an outlet for his feelings so much he was willing to pour out to anyone - even me.

Yuan sighed, deflated. "Lloyd is useless to us," he said quietly, no longer looking at me. "If we need to kill him to get Kratos to cooperate, so be it. At the very least it'll stop him in his wild goose-chase. His faith in his son blinds him to the fact that the fate of the world depends on this. I'm the only one who has any sense of proportion." He stared at me intensely. _"I need to do this."_

I stared at him; there was some sort of longing in his eyes I didn't recognize. Slowly I nodded. "Yes, this needs to be done. It's the only way."

The briefest flicker of a relieved smile passed over his face. That rare sight was soon replaced by a determined look, however, as he mentally girded his loins to do the unthinkable. "Bring Kratos from his chambers," he said, standing up resolutely. "The mana flow is unstable, and I need to make the pact quickly before the world falls apart... but...." Here he paused, his thoughts now distant from anything I could hope to comprehend. _"Am_ I worthy to make a pact with Origin?" he said quietly, staring at his hands.

"Sir?" I said nervously, not liking where this was going. If Yuan lost his nerve now....

He didn't seem to hear me. "These hands are too bloody," he murmured, lost in his own little world now. "What I'm doing... it'll kill them.... Mithos... Kratos... Martel...."

He trailed off, and I suddenly got the feeling that if I didn't pull him back from this abyss, we'd lose him. "And if you don't do it, thousands more will die," I said quickly.

He blinked and seemed to come back to himself. He looked at me, and his eyes were dry. He was long past crying now. "Yes, of course. You're right, Botta," he said, not noticing his mistake this time. "Martel would never forgive me otherwise. They're depending on me." His eyes took on a dangerous, steely quality; his jaw was set. "I'm going to do this." With that he strode out the door, and I wondered fleetingly if this was the same Yuan I had thought I had known. 


End file.
